A Life Not Yet Lived

Too many people find themselves caught up in countless “coulda, woulda, shoulda’s.” They lament what they might have been rather than celebrate who they are. Their lives might be a series of regrets over personal choices or decisions. They wallow in a deep quagmire of self pity, remorse and sorrow over what they perceive they lost or what they never pursued in the first place. I sympathize for such people. They are stuck in a past that never was, yet they fantasize about what might have been if only they “woulda” chased their elusive dreams or made better choices.


We all have dreams. Some are sleep induced. Others are conscious. The difference between the two is that the former is mere fantasy; the latter offers hope and promise provided one acts on his dreams.

How many times have we heard athletes who achieved greatness and stardom say that since they were children they have dreamed of throwing the winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl or that they dreamed of hitting a 3 – 2 pitch for the game winning home run in the bottom of the ninth inning of the World Series? Their dreams were conscious dreams and played a role in shaping who and what these athletes became. Dreams led to goals and goals required plans and plans demanded commitment. What distinguishes those who accomplish from those who don’t is not necessarily the lack of dreams by those who don’t achieve but rather the lack of plans and commitments. I can dream all I want about running a marathon but if I don’t establish a training plan and commit to it then I will likely end up on the couch watching television as someone else achieves my dream. Such dreams are no less fantasy than the dreams one experiences during sleep. They may entertain and amuse but they will likely remain in the realm of make believe.

A life not yet lived does not necessarily have to be delusional. Regardless of one’s age or status in life, he can pursue the life not yet lived provided he is willing to plan, commit and sacrifice. Make no mistake, most dreams and pursuits in life require personal sacrifice. Sacrifice can be as simple as setting aside a specific amount of time each day or week to read and learn. Or, it can be as physically challenging as training daily for a marathon. Golfers like me marvel at the short game skills of professionals. The pro golfer is adept at pitching, chipping and putting. Most pros can chip to within inches of the hole leaving nothing more challenging than a tap in putt. But golfers like me fail to take into consideration the pro’s dedication to the short game. Professionals practice and practice and practice still more to achieve the success they seek in their short game. Practice demands commitment and vice versa.

If one truly commits to living a life not yet lived then he will do those things that will draw him closer to his goals. Even if he should fall short of his actual goal at least he will know that he gave it his all or, as so many athletes claim, “they left it all – meaning their efforts – on the field.” If that were to be the case then there is no shame in failing. There is only shame in the failure to plan and commit.

Dreams without plans and commitment are nothing more than pipe dreams.







©December 2011

W. J. Charles

Mirror, Mirror ....

Mirrors lie. They only reflect what we desire them to. My reflected image isn’t bad at all. After shaving and grooming my hair, I believe I look pretty good. In fact, I might even argue that I’m handsome. I know. That sounds vain and narcissistic, but, my body looks pretty good too as it stares back at me. My waist certainly doesn’t appear to be 36”, which means, that the tape measure probably lies also. My biceps and triceps are huge, at least, according to my bathroom mirror. The love handles that border my waist are hardly noticeable. At least, no one has mentioned them to me. So, I certainly won’t take notice either. Nor will I mention them. The bottom line is I like the guy who looks back at me from the mirror.


Photographs are another matter. Somehow, photos capture what the mirror doesn’t. I can’t figure out why my hair and my mustache appear so gray in photos? They don’t look gray in the mirror. Why does the sixty-four year old skin below my chin and on my neck sag so much in pictures? Where in the hell did those wrinkles come from and how did they suddenly emerge? My skin is near perfect in my mirror reflection. And, this is a pet peeve: my face is not nearly as thin in photographs as it is in the mirror.

After viewing digital reproductions from our 40th wedding anniversary surprise dinner, I’m perplexed. Which device tells the truth? Is it the mirror or the camera? I’d like to believe the mirror is honest. But, after considerable thought and reflection, I have come to the conclusion that I am, after all, sixty-four years old. In fact, I have aged since I began writing this article and will continue to age with each heartbeat. My hair isn’t as brown as it once was. My skin isn’t as taut as that of a 30 year old. Although I exercise regularly, my body is showing the unmistakable signs of aging. I may be getting better with age but I’m not sure what I’m getting better at.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I must slow down the aging process. Normally, that’s not easily accomplished without substances such as Human Growth Hormones. However, I choose not to use HGH or similar substances. Instead, I will choose a simpler approach. Effective immediately, I will permit no photographs of myself. At least in that way, my physical age will be frozen in time at the age of sixty-four.


© March 2008

William Charles